Cry for Help
by MissMarvel
Summary: How Remy might feel about himself and some of the other X-Men. Kinda dark, some implied mature themes (hence the PG-13 rating). Enjoy!


Title: Cry for Help Author: MissMarvel Date: July 16, 2003 Rating: PG-13 Feedback: sensorgirlshaw.ca Archive: Sure you can! Just drop me a note telling me where! Disclaimer: Not mine, sorry. I know you really wanted me to have full control of them but...gasp I don't! So until I rule the world...their Marvels.  
  
There are a million reasons to be depressed, he mused. There's just not nearly as many reasons to bring him out of it. Rogue's sleeping with another guy...or guys, he wasn't sure. Everyone knew. Everyone. They thought he hadn't caught on yet. He heard their jokes, their wise cracks, he saw their superior, in some cases pity-filled stares as he walked the halls, he took notice when he entered a room and the conversation would stop. No one around here liked him much anyway, never had. They'd been waiting for a chance like this, or rather another chance, to show him that they were better than him. To show him he was worthless and he was lucky to have their tolerance, never deserving more. And that was fine. He'd wanted it that way...hadn't he? Always on the outskirts, never getting too attached. But he had. Their opinions meant a lot to him, they'd become the family he'd never have. Never could have.  
There was Scott. A man he secretly idolized. And why shouldn't he? Scott had everything! A loving wife, loyal, caring friends, he was known as a good man. Everyone trusted him, everyone respected him. He was a man with everything, a man who had no sins to repent for, who had morals and restraint. He had thought Scott could do no wrong. That is...until Emma. It had hurt him when he'd heard. Deeply, though he never let on. Scott, the man with everything, throwing it all away. He'd lost his faith in Scott the day he heard, and more importantly he'd lost his faith in becoming a man like Scott. Poor Jean.  
Storm. Ororo. Beautiful, graceful, deadly. She was a goddess, a perfect beauty and at the same time, very human. She was his friend, and he supposed she still was, but Antarctica had changed that friendship. Who was he kidding, the friendship changed as soon as she was back with the X-Men. They were her friends, her family. Of course he was her friend too, but he never compared to them. Sometimes he wondered if she stayed friends with him only cause of how he saved her life back in the good old days. He hoped it wasn't true, wished every day that he was wrong, told himself every day that he was just delusional, but...deep down, he wasn't so sure.  
Wolverine. Enigmatic, feral, loyal. How he hated him. Wolverine, oh so lovable Wolverine. Do they know about the sins of your past? Of your present? Do they even care? What's the deal? If you can't remember the crimes you committed then they don't count? I hate you! I hate you so much I can taste it in my balls! What makes you better than me?! What?!  
Jubilee, what a great kid. He loved her joyful demeanor, her innocence and playfulness. But she was growing up. And that would all fade only leaving behind a shadow of the child she once was. He just hoped she had the good sense to hold onto her youth as long as she could.  
Beast, Hank McCoy, forever trapped in the body of a blue furry beast. But he never took it to heart. Hank was one of the kindest, gentlest and smartest men he knew. Hank never let the world get him down, no matter what it threw at him. Hank was always there with a kind smile and a word of encouragement. Hank was always there for them. In the bad times and good, because that's what Hank did. He envied that on some level. He wished he could be the one that people turned to, to be seen as kind and compassionate rather than the asshole they made him out to be. He was just honest that's all! He said what was on his mind! He wasn't the only one in the mansion who did it...he was just the one they didn't want to hear from.  
Iceman, cold on the outside, warm on the inside. How he feared him. Ice. Snow. Bobby. With a thought he could bring Antarctica back to him. He could do what Antarctica had failed to do. Freeze his skin beyond repair, Lower his body temperature until he couldn't feel anything, then slowly freeze his blood within his veins and watch, with his cold icy body, as his victims' organs slowly started to shut down and darkness overtook them. The shivering would end. And so would their life. Sometimes, no, the thought always scared him. And it always will.  
Angel, or Archangel, whatever he's calling himself now. Funny name for a man who doesn't fit the description. Sure he's got wings, so what? It's the personality that doesn't fit. He never had to work for anything, always got everything handed to him on a golden pedestal. He hated Angel. Angel was everything he'd come to hate in his short life. Arrogant, possessive, mean-spirited and intolerant. Worst of all, Angel was his past. He'd been the one responsible for Angel's...transformation, as the others referred to it. He'd been the one, and now he paid the price. The only question concerning Angel was, did he hate the Angel...or himself?  
Bishop, why do you hate me so much? Is it because you still think of me as the Witness, or is it more than that? Do you blame me for ruining your life? Your sister's life? Or it is just me you dislike. Is it the way I talk? The words I say? Is it the way I act? Is it all the things I've done? That I will do? Maybe we're just too different, or maybe, just maybe, too much the same.  
Rogue. Beautiful, delicate Rogue. He'd loved you with every fiber of his being. He still does. They say the ones you love the most are the ones that hurt you the most and it's true. You hurt him Rogue, over and over and over again. And he forgave you, welcomed you back with open arms but always keeping a distance. One more heartbreak, one more hurtful phrase or cruel action could send him over the edge with despair. He loved her, he loved her more than he'd loved anyone. Sometimes he though she didn't love him back. A woman that was in love with being in love, who kept him around as her perfect trophy boyfriend for others to see, a woman who expected a fairytale ending, with who she didn't care. Was he right? Was that all it was? A charade? His heart aches, his mind sinks. There's a void in his soul that can't be filled. Sometimes he tries to fill it with drink. Other times he tries to make himself forget about it by cutting himself or putting on a fake smile and pretending everything is fine. He knows it's not. And it hurts, oh god it hurts. Was he not good enough? Was there something wrong with him? He tried to change for you, to be perfect. But you still fled into the arms of others. Are they better than him to? Are they better looking? Better in bed? Better people? Was he just your trophy boyfriend, the one that was to be seen in public? The fake boyfriend who you were "meant to be with"? Your "Happy ending"? Do you care at all what happens to him when the public isn't looking? How it hurts him every time you leave. How your words tear through his fragile soul like razors through his flesh. How he cries himself to sleep, knowing your in the arms of another. How he feels nauseous when you tell him you love him. Do you think that will make it all okay? Do you think your happiness is more important than his? Or do you think what the two of you share is real? He knows it's not real. And he knows it never will be. But he loves you more than you will ever know. And that's why he shrugs and says he doesn't mind if you go out with Frank, or John or Cory tonight. That's why he puts on a fake smile in front of onlookers and pretends everything is fine. That's why he hides his tears when you leave him at night. And that's why, he'll never leave you.  
There were a million reasons to be depressed. But he could no longer think of a good one to be happy. He was nothing, he had nothing and he would amount to nothing. The razorblade fell from his hand. He couldn't do it anymore. It was time to stop, to move on. It was time...to cry for help. 


End file.
